Tales from Charlescomm - The Fall of Farmville
Charlotte floated though the sleeping halls of Farmville, noting with appreciation the cabbage motif of the banners that decorated the walls - given the side's emphasis on agriculture, it seemed appropriate. Anyone lucky enough to make a spot check against her veil might have momentarily mistaken her for a Transylvitan Skank with her pale skin and form-fitting black raiment, though she lacked the obligatory red eyes and pointed ears; but so far none of the units she'd seen, asleep, drunk, amorous, or some combination of the three, had taken any notice.
Her short blade felt strangely unbalanced in her hand, as she had traded the large gemstone that had comprised the pommel to a triad of Charlescomm archons ten turns ago. In exchange, the Archons had filled her purse with schmuckers, provided her with enough extra rations to stretch her upkeep horizon out to 30 turns without foraging, and shared some extremely detailed intelligence on the layout and habits of this city, which they had recently departed following a stint as "personal bodyguards" to the young King of Zynga during his coronation celebration.
More important than gossip about King Anthony's proclivity for sending inappropriate thinkagrams, however, she had learned that the side would be without an heir until they popped a new prince in another twenty-odd turns - a tidbit that naturally piqued her professional interest. She had entered the city at dawn, and spent the turn lying flat on a rooftop under a scouting veil (no reason to burn precious juice if one isn't moving all day), hoping that no-one in the tower would feel compelled to spend too much time looking out the windows.
Her very presence in the city as an enemy unit would normally have been a give-away, except for her personal special, imposed permanently by powerful Carnymancy - this unit cannot capture a city. In an interesting rules quirk, this meant that her presence did not render the city contested - so while she had shared battlespace with Zynga for the past turn, they had spent the day looking for her literally anywhere else.
And now... the quiet halls, the silent stairs, a detour around a sleeping Wiener-Rammer... and finally the ornate door to the royal bedchamber, fifteen feet away and guarded by a pair of distressingly alert knights, a man and a woman. Charlotte froze for a moment as she ran through the tactical possibilities: They would have far too many hits for her to dispose of them both before more guards arrived. Her veil might get her to the door undetected, but the act of opening it would surely give her away. It would have to be a blitz.
She raised her free hand towards the two knights and let her remaining juice flow into her fingertips, murmuring under her breath as quietly as she could "Proactive." The female knight dropped a hand to her sword and quirked her head to the side, listening. "Mindshare." Her veil flickered and failed as it ran out of juice. The enemy units focused on her immediately, swords in their hands and moving to engage almost - but critically not quite - faster than thought. "Exit Strategy!"
The advancing knights recoiled as an explosion of blazing light burst from her hand and Charlotte was instantly in motion, flying between and past them. She crashed through the now unprotected door, her leading free hand catching the latch just in time for the momentum of her impact to swing it open, sending her tumbling into the room beyond.
She heard a clatter of armor behind her as the guards recovered themselves and swung around but too late for there was the king himself, sitting up blearily in the massive royal bed and here was her sword and here was his chest and a fountain of pain in her side as one of the desperate knights almost got lucky with an un-specialed ranged attack.
And then the world froze. For the king had been croaked, Zynga was no more, and because she could not contest the city, she had no time to share with its neutral inhabitants, including the two knights frozen in a posture of rage just a few feet away.
Ignoring her injury, which would heal at dawn, Charlotte pulled her blade from the chest of the late king and checked the pommel. The sword was a Moneymancy/Dollmancy item, with the special to turn the schmuckers left behind by anyone it killed into a gem - an almost useless property, given that most units don't have any schmuckers, that custody of the treasury of a side automagically passes from ruler to heir, and that a dead barbarian's purse you can just take. However, while the treasury of a former side normally falls to whoever seizes its capital, its owner in a moneymancy sense does not change until that actually happens, a chain of reasoning that now left her holding an exquisite gem that she guessed to be worth just over 200,000 schmuckers.
It was far less valuable to her, of course. As a level 7, she could only hold a tiny fraction of the thing in her purse if she was foolish enough to change it into schmuckers - but the talkative archons had happened to mention where she might find another Charlescomm triad a few turns from now, and naturally a mutually beneficial deal would be made.
She sighed as her wound twinged. It wasn't that she didn't like this life, exactly - in 300-odd turns as a barbarian she had single-handedly ended no fewer than twelve sides, which she expected would raise quite a stir in the City of Heroes someday, especially given that it wasn't even supposed to be possible to promote an Archon into a Warlord in the first place. She had certainly helped her popping side more than most units ever did, and she knew perfectly well why she had to work on the very edge of complete independence... but...
Oh Charlie, let me come home someday.
So at first it seems like a relatively typical cliché of the sexy female assassin with mad skills, although it was well written and definitely interesting. Then comes the last sentence and the whole previous story changes into pure awesome haha
Really hope to read more of this if there is any, the concept is very interesting and open to pure epicness.